These dirty headlights taunt the pavement in a kaleidoscope of rusty symmetry and double-tone white. I half-heartedly reach for the brake pedal, but come up short on purpose. It seems to have disappeared among the carpet fibers anyway, leaving me no choice beyond the gas. Of course I punch it. And why the fuck not? My toes tense up with fury and intangible amounts of adrenaline. A caged animal stuck somewhere between adventure and panic. The rush is indescribable. I launch forward now, my head pinned against the defenseless headrest. No need for ambition on this trip, the speedometer’s fully equipped. The ride is rough, yet rough is mind-blowing at this point. Sexual innuendos have me pressing play on my funny bones tonight, an array of “ha’s” and “he’s” escaping in self-satisfying secrecy. Feels good to lack restriction. Puts me in an open ball-pit that sets fire to free spirit and settles for nothing less. Take that, Mr. Responsibility. I don’t need you anymore. I’ve got it all right here. Flying solo again, minus the fancy wings and fears of failure.
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